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I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. (J 

J £ ^2 J 

J UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. J 



SKETCHES, 



SKETCHES 



FROM 



ST. GEORGES FIELDS. 



BY 



/ 



GIORGIONE DI CASTEL CH USO. 




ALL HOPE ARANDON YE WHO K.V'ICH HERE. CaRY's Dailte. 



LONDON : 



^° 



STODART AND STEUART, 81, STRAND, 



1820. 



THE 



AUTHORS PREFACE. 



I AM a native of Italy, and a lineal 
descendant of the celebrated Giorgione 
di Castel Franco, whose inimitable works 
excited the admiration, and perhaps the 
envy, even of Titian: and though the 
fame of the latter be more widely dif- 
fused, I must so far do justice to my 
great ancestor, as to assert that his 
genius was more original than that of 
the illustrious Painter of Cadore. It 
a 



VI PREFACE. 

may be that I am a little swayed by 
partiality; but I always thought that 
the latter never entirely divested himself 
of the manner he acquired from Bellini, 
and which is observable, especially in 
the folding of the draperies, in some of 
his best pictures. Witness his Abra- 
ham and Isaac, and even that noble 
work the " Pietro Mar tire." 

My father, though not affluent, was 
possessed of a sufficient competency: 
he was passionately fond of the Arts, 
and of Literature. All who excelled in 
either ever found a welcome in his house. 
With my earliest recollections is asso- 
ciated a noble portrait of the great 
Giorgione, or, as he was always empha- 



PREFACE. Vll 

tically styled by my father, II grande; 
this constituted the chief ornament of 
the Sala in which were held the con- 
versations which formed the delight of 
our society, and which in Italy are at- 
tended with little expense. The praises 
of II Grande were incessantly sounded 
in my ears ; and these were ever ac- 
companied by lamentations over the 
decline of Painting in Italy, to which 
my father gave utterance continually. 
He was a man of mild temper; and I 
never recollect to have seen him seri- 
ously ruffled ; but once, when a certain 
Signor Filangieri, who was accustomed 
to frequent our circle, happened to 
launch forth in praise of the works of 
a2 



Vlli PREFACE. 

Pompeio Battoni, for which my father 
entertained the most sovereign con- 
tempt. On this occasion the debate 
waxed so hot, that a quarrel ensued; 
and the Signor absented himself from 
our society for some time. 

Very early in life I learned to believe, 
that to excel in painting, was worthy of 
the highest ambition. My first essays 
at design were regarded as sure indica- 
tions of genius by my father, and my 
aunt Perpetua; who, indeed, upon every 
occasion did but echo all that my father 
uttered. After receiving some instruc- 
tions from a very indifferent painter, I 
achieved the great object of my first 
ambition ; which was, to copy the re- 



PREFACE. IX 

doubted portrait of II Grande ; and in 
this I succeeded so well, that my father 
pronounced the copy admirable. My 
aunt Perpetua even declared, that, if 
there was a difference between the copy 
and the original, it was in favour of the 
copy ; the tints of which, she asserted, 
were more vivid and lively. 

I proceeded with great ardour and 
application in my studies j which were 
only interrupted, or rather varied, by 
another, the acquirement of the English 
language. I had become acquainted 
with the value of English poetry through 
the medium of the translations of Ce- 
sarotti ; and I determined to make myself 
master of the very words, in which the 



X PREFACE. 

sublime authors he has rendered into 
Italian, expressed their divine concep- 
tions. I also assiduously sought the 
society of such English as visited our 
part of Italy ; and soon became master 
of the language. 

It is not my intention to write here a 
history of my life ; therefore I shall 
simply refer my determination to visit 
England, first, to my desire to see a 
country so celebrated, and so favourable 
in general to foreigners ; next, to the 
hopes I had formed of acquiring dis- 
tinction, and of drawing to myself much 
of that encouragement said to be given 
to the Arts in its metropolis : and, to 
confess the truth, I was not a little dis- 



PREFACE. XI 

gusted by the preference given by my 
countrymen to an Artist, whom, how- 
ever he may be esteemed by them, I 
certainly regard as decidedly my infe- 
rior, in all the great requisites that con- 
stitute a painter. 

I had seen some prints done from the 
portraits of the Chevalier Reynolds, and 
the justly celebrated engravings of the 
Death of Wolfe, and the Battles of the 
Boyne, and La Hogue ; and though I 
was somewhat prejudiced against the 
adoption of subjects from modern his- 
tory, I saw that the Arts must be greatly 
advanced, in a country that could send 
forth such engravings. And certainly, 
when I afterwards saw a collection of 



£11 PREFACE. 

the works of the same Chevalier Rey- 
nolds, exhibited by the members of the 
British Institution, in the street called 
Pail-Mall, I was compelled to confess, 
that modern Italy was rivalled, if not 
eclipsed, by one Artist, the native of a 
northern climate. 

I shall not describe the various scenes 
through which I passed in this Country. 
It may suffice to state that I produced 
to the Public some of my works. A 
New Style was announced in the news- 
papers of this news-loving Country; and 
I must acknowledge that for some time 
I had my share both of praise and patro- 
nage. However, to my unspeakable 
mortification, that approbation which at 



PREFACE. Xlll 

first had followed me wherever I ap- 
peared, was withdrawn from me, to be 
lavished upon a new candidate for 
popular applause. Just at the moment 
when I thought myself fixed on the 
summit of glory, up started an adven- 
turer from the Palatinate; a fellow of in- 
trepid assurance, but of no talent better 
than what is necessary to an indifferent 
miniature-painter : by mere dint of talk- 
ing, and the imposing appearance of a 
house got up with much trick and 
mummery, he completely mystified the 
world of fashion in London — a world 
that is every thing, where the Arts are 
in question ; and the descendant of the 
great Giorgione di Castel Franco was 



XIV PREFACE. 

speedily left without a patron, and al- 
most without an admirer. It is true 
that the fellow from the Palatinate, with 
all his impudence and power of prestige, 
could not maintain his ground, and, after 
a thousand shifts, ran off disgracefully. 
But I was so mortified by the desertion 
of the Public, for such a rival, that I be- 
came seriously indisposed. 

In England, that dreadful malady, 
Hydrophobia, is of frequent occurrence: 
but there is a disease of a directly oppo- 
site nature, which so abounds in the 
country, as to be absolutely epidemic, 
and that with unfailing recurrence, at 
certain seasons of the year. I speak of 
Hydromania, a malady not yet described 



PREFACE. XV 

by any Author. The patients suffering 
from this disease, are affected with a 
horror, very different from that which 
seizes those who labour under Hydro- 
phobia ; for they cannot exist, at certain 
seasons, without flying to water. I sup- 
pose that the element has more efficacy 
in some parts of the coast than in others ; 
as some stations are crowded to excess, 
while others are utterly neglected. But 
in all those affected by this malady, may 
be perceived the same symptoms, the 
same giddiness or vertigo, the same 
restlessness, and the same abhorrence 
of home — that home which is particularly 
the delight of the English, and for which 
they have a name that may scarcely be 
translated. 



XVI PREFACE. 

It should seem that the prevalence of 
this disease influences the practice of 
the English physicians; who, perhaps, 
have founded a theory on what appears 
to be peculiar to the natives of this 
country. It is certain that a resort to 
watering-places is frequently prescribed 
by the medical advisers in England, in 
cases which seem to call for no change 
of abode. I suppose it was in pursuance 
of this prevailing treatment of invalids, 
that I was ordered to have recourse to 
a certain Spring of great repute. My 
case, indeed, did not call for a journey 
to the coast ; nay, I was not obliged to 
leave the Metropolis : I was only re- 
quired to drink for some time, at the very 
spring of a certain fountain in Saint 



PREFACE. XV11 



George's Fields, over which a Pump is 
placed, and by which a vast Casino is 
built, capable of containing many hun- 
dreds of patients, and surrounded by a 
lofty wall. These waters are in infinitely 
greater repute than those of Aix, of 
Pyrmont, or Bareges ; and I have in one 
morning met with inhabitants of re- 
motely-distant countries, gathered to- 
gether before this famous Spring. 

It was at the time of my visit to this 
fountain, that I found it necessary to 
make some change in my name; and, 
for Castel Franco, the surname hitherto 
borne by my family, to adopt that of 
Castel Chiuso. This change, however, 
was not effected without due ceremony* 



XV111 PREFACE. 

I can assure the Reader that the proper 
forms of Law were observed ; and that 
when the particular act was performed, 
by which the new surname was adopted, 
I was ushered by the appointed officers, 
with considerable ceremony, one pre- 
ceding, and one following me, with the 
most scrupulous observance. 

It was during the time in which I par- 
took of the salubrious potations of that 
spring, which, for I know not what rea- 
son, is called Number Sixteen, that I 
availed myself of my knowledge of the 
English language; and, changing the 
pencil for the pen, amused myself by 
making written Sketches, with which I 
have filled a portfolio : a small portion 



PREFACE. XIX 

of these is now offered to the Public. 
I know not whether I have seized the 
traits which would particularly strike an 
Englishman : but, if I have thought and 
felt too much like a native of Italy, I have 
sedulously endeavoured to apply to my 
Sketches what knowledge I have ac- 
quired, during my abode in England, 
from a close observation of what has 
passed before me ; and from an acquaint- 
ance with English manners and customs, 
that does not often fall to the lot of a 
foreigner. 




SJntro&ttcttott. 



WHILE England's artists, panting to explore 
Far countries, quit in throngs their native shore, 
The tardy graver scarcely can supply 
Their labours to the Public's eager eye. 
Portfolio in hand, one hastes to climb 
Helvetia's rocks, or Tyrol's wilds sublime ; 

B 



This pencil Greece with classic scenes employs ; 

That, more in soft Italian valleys joys. 

One, Abyssinia's features loves to seize ; 

Another, all that 's curious of Chinese ; 10 

This gives the fervors of the torrid zone ; 

That makes the polar ices all our own. 

A humbler draughtsman here the pencil wields, 

And gives slight Sketches from Saint George's Fields, 

Though slight, not incorrect — the outline true 

Presents each object in its genuine view ; 

And, though the colouring seem somewhat high, 

How many to its truth can testify ! 

How many ! in those purlieus who conceal 

The thoughts that strike them, and the pangs they feel, 

Who, in some task resembling this, might find 

Short respite from the torment of the mind. 



For, how intolerable to the soul 
Past scenes of bliss upon the memory roll, 
When 'mid a prison's horrid gloom they come 
To one that e'er has loved the heaven of home ! 
Home ! comprehensive word ! whose letters span 
All that can interest the heart of man ; 
All-varying outline, that each mortal's will 
With colour, light, and shade, his own may fill ; 30 
Sound, populous of thought, that each employs 
To give the scene of his peculiar joys ! 
What forms, what sounds, in that one magic word 
In simultaneous throngs are seen and heard ! 

O my own home ! how sweetly dost thou rise, 
How sadly, too, upon my mind's fond eyes ! 
Thy fresh and verdant slopes, thy waters, flowers, 
And the cool umbrage of thy beechen bowers, 
b 2 



8 

Crowd on my soul ; and with them all the train 
Of long-past joys, that sharpen present pain. 40 

And oh, what faces 'mid those scenes appear ! 
What well-known voices seem to thrill mine ear ! 

From these the soul falls back to deeper gloom, 
While keen regrets the pining heart consume. 
Sometimes the mind, impatient of its grief, 
Seeks, in forgetfulness, a short relief ; 
How grateful then the aid, whate'er it be, 
That fills the mind and cheats the memory ! 
Yet will the slightest object, merest sound, 
The labour of forgetfulness confound. 50 

'Tis not the sordid garniture, the gloom, 
The weary sameness of one narrow room, 
No, nor the repetition of the scene 
Of madness, vice, and folly, daily seen, 



That most torments.— The pangs we sharpest feel 
Upon the soul's securest moments steal. 

How slight a spark of thought will fire the train 
Whose swift explosion shakes and sears the brain ! 
Sometimes a rose, that, in the window placed, 
Proclaims our love of nature uneffaced, 60 

Tells of some Paradise in which we roved 
In happy hours, with those we fondly loved ; 
From this you turn ; lo, fix'd upon the wall 
Some sketch of mountain range, or waterfall, 
Some lovely landscape, traced when at our side 
One dear as life our pencil's progress eyed. 
To books you fly ; but O beware what page 
You choose the memory's torture to assuage ; 
Some passages for ever in the mind 
With persons and with places are entwined ; 70 



10 

Nay more, some books, unopen'd as they lie, 
Tell where they stood in happier days gone by, 
And e'en suggest the voice whose suasive power 
Bade close your study ere the wonted hour. 

Is there a nerve of anguish in the mind 
That music's all-pervading power can find ? 
Hark ! some lewd stammering reveller profanes 
With uncouth voice Mozart's divinest strains, 
On " scrannel pipe" some rude street minstrel plays 
A fav'rite air, heard oft in brighter days, 80 

When lips beloved a strain consenting pour'd, 
And fingers often prest awoke the chord. 

And, O thou beauteous orb, whose silver light 
Makes garish day less beautiful than night ! 
How does thy beam, upon the window thrown, 
Tell of the happiest moments we have known, 



11 

Of hopes how long, how confidently fed ! 
Now withered, wasted, and for ever dead. 
What wonder, then, if desperate thoughts assail ! 
What wonder, then, if resolution fail ! 90 

Ye modern Sybarites, that, in the shade 
On freshly gathered leaves of roses laid, 
Bewail your hapless fate with piteous cry, 
If but a single leaf be laid awry, 
Pause ere with hard indifference you throw 
Your censures on each erring child of woe, 
That, tortured past endurance by his grief, 
Not always seeks the holiest relief. 
You see his errors : those indeed appear 
Beyond contention, palpable and clear. 100 

But you, who to your pamper'd thoughts propose 
No pain but what satiety bestows, 



12 

How can you know what torture was endured, 
What baits to short forgetfulness allured ? 
The hard of heart may sentence, the mere fool 
May quote the censure of a written rule. 
But little skill is requisite to aim 
The common shafts of obloquy and shame — 



Ere the vituperative word be sped, 
Uttered so soon, so hard to be unsaid, 110 

Think if you should not know how well, how long-, 
Temptation was resisted— that, how strong ! 




SKETCHES 



ST. GEORGES FIELDS. 



PART I. 




LA SERA. 




Qui non habet in crumena luat in corpore. 



Dart th mx$u 



THE winds of March, with many a sudden gust, 
About Saint George's Fields had whiiTd the dust, 
And stirr'd the massive bars that stand beneath 
The spikes that wags calFd Ellenborough's teeth ; 
(Whether we grinders call them, or canine, 
Those teeth, Chief-Justice Abbot ! now are thine— 



18 

But woe to him that calls your Lordship currish.) 

'Twas six o'clock precise ; the postman's flourish 

Rang through the Bench, soon answer'd by the swell 

Of that high-sounded horn, long wont to tell 10 

From Number " Ten" to many a hungry sinner 

That mighty Signor R-msd-n has a dinner ; 

An eager- visaged inmate of that place, 

Where dinner rarely cools from length of grace, 

Walk'd near the unenter'd coffee-house, and sigh'd, 

As shuffled past a cook in busy pride, 

With loaded tray, and hung his flickering nose 

O'er viands destined for the Don and R-se. 

Not half so fragrant were the wondrous nest 

The phoenix builds in Araby the blest, 20 

Nor Attar-Gul, whose scent so exquisite 

Bids swoon the maids of Schirauz with delight, 



19 

Nor e'en the breath that fills Cecilia's sigh, 

As Ranger thought the vapour flitting by. 

The scent that hungry wight thought best of best 

Steam'd from a savoury steak with onions dress'd. 

The rich aroma, climbing to his brain, 

Caird up of eating thoughts a hungry train, 

Awaked the memory of days gone by, 

When Long s long bill of fare fatigued his eye, 30 

When George's Carte was search'd for something new — 

Improved consommee or superb ragout, 

Some sauce piquante, the wonder of the hour, 

To stimulate his palate's jaded power. 

O great Soubise ! (a) and greater Bechamelle ! 
By heroes quoted, and by cooks as well, 
Great at three courses, as when in the field, 
The knife or marshal's baton skill'd to wield,. 



20 

To both grenades and either saucisse true 
(The esculent, and military too), 40 

What would your pupils, Gastronomes of Seine, 
Give for an appetite, as Ranger's keen ? 

But hunger, that supreme high-zesting sauce, 
Best when sirloin or haunch awaits our jaws, 
Or when some royal pasty is in hand, 
Duke Humphrey ! at thy table ne'er should stand. 

Not the grave Barber's brother more was tried 
With make-believes by that good Barmecide 
Who feigned to eat, (ere aught the table press'd) 
His lamb that with Pistachia nuts was drest — 50 

Not Sancho more, when throned in Barataria, 
Was plagued by him of Tirtefueraria, 
Before whose wand each dish was made to vanish, 
(I hope to read it, ere I die, in Spanish) 



21 

Who drove the lord of Dapple to appease 

His stomach's rage on onions and on cheese — 

Nor thou, Faublas, when Justine's comfiture 

Was all thy amorous hunger could procure, 

Hadst half that tortured Ranger, as his eye 

And nostril caught the viands passing by. 60 

What could he do ? the coffee-room was near, 

But Davy cries, " He pays who enters here :" 

On trust Fitzgerald would not give a roll, 

No — tho' that bread might save his father's soul : 

An execution issued but that day 

Had swept poor Taylor's goods and beef away, 

And Nanny Ringer, 'mid the sordid crew 

The sole kind heart, had bid the Bench adieu. 

Many there were, and some now caught his eye, 

To whom his purse had minister'd supply ; 70 



Not one for payment made an overture, 
And, asked, or were, or feign'd to be, too poor. 
The case seem'd desperate, and full of gloom 
Poor Ranger was about to seek his room : 
One mournful turn, intended for the last, 
He took ; when by the lobby as he pass'd, 
In walk'd a form to Ranger known before, 
Colvile 00 his trunk, himself a cloke-bag bore. 

Our Detenu, tho' Belcour still was such 
As in their jovial days, was alter'd much, 80 

Yet each the other knew ; and when surprise 
Had rais'd a moment's flash in either' s eyes, 
Such greeting folio w'd as in such a place 
Ensues to those who meet a friendly face. 
" We all," at length cried Belcour, as he press'd 
The other's hand, " of bad should make the best." 



23 

This seems indeed a melancholy hole 

To one whose race was run without control — 

Not run — there's life, there's strength remaining still ; 

'Tis but a pull-up as we mount the hill. 90 

But tell me what 'tis fitting I should do 

Just turn'd into a world to me so new. 

Give to thy younger brother in distress 

The vantage of thy knowledge and address ; 

Tell how 1 may procure a bed, and where 

The place affords to hunger decent cheer. 

If not engaged, pray dine with me to-day. 

Now do not look as if you'd answer a nay." 

Perhaps you've din'd?— No! — then oblige me, pray. 

HERE was a dinner from the skies! at least 100 
Unlook'd for as the visionary feast 



24 

Of Prospero, that mock'd Alonzo's crew, 

And vanish'd as the varlets would set to. 

With tooth-pick carelessness, by watchful pride 

In hard and trying moments oft supplied, 

The bidding Ranger met, nor show'd the glee 

Rais'd by that unexpected jubilee, 

And, leading to the coffee-room the way, 

Seem'd but at most indifferently gay. 110 

So have I seen Dorinda from the park, 
Walk in her triumph o'er some amorous spark ; 
With smiles represt amid the gazing throng 
She bears in conscious pride her prize along ; 
But not a tone, and scarce a look, reveals 
The joy her palpitating bosom feels ; 
With easy nonchalance and careless grace 
She smoothly leads him on to Seymour Place. 



25 

When Belcour entered in that little cell, 
Scarce larger than a full-sized Chemow (c) shell, 
" Call you me this a coffee-room ?" he cried 120 

So loud that Buzzard's curtain flew aside, 
Displaying Davy's house-keeper in state, 
That like the lady in a lobster sate ; 
Or like the maggot in some filbert shell, 
Or toad that fills in some old wall its cell ; 
There, o'er the oeconomy the dame presides, 
And oft the waiter's want of sharpness chides ; 
And, muttering, sends him back with many a frown, 
If aught he give — without the money down. 
Across the room, with less than half a stride, 130 

For both their wants went Ranger to provide ; 
And, while he chiefly thought of dinner, said, 
*'< Pray, madam, can you give my friend a bed V 

c 



So many a greater man his thought conceals ; 
So Abbot (d) called for wax, yet wish'd the seals. 

O Flattery ! what can not thy magic do ? 
E'en Buzzard's wrinkled frowns it could unscrew. 
As 'mid the laundry-maids, while yet a child, 
I ? ve stolen to hear them gossip stories wild, 
I 've seen some tight pink-elbow'd damsel twist 140 
A cambric kerchief with inverted wrist, 
Then on the table spread the pucker'd thing, 
All creased and wrinkled from her vigorous wring ; 
An iron next she seizes from the stand, 
While guards the folded cloth her tidy hand : 
Its heat, ere yet her implement she plies, 
With balmy ichor from her lip she tries : 
Then passes to and fro with easy play 
The genial warmth, and soothes each fold away. 



27 

So, o'er the puckered forehead of that dame, 150 

The charm of Ranger's adulation came. 

Changed was that countenance, that late to view 

A walnut seem'd in texture and in hue, 

Or an old caddy, cased in filagree, 

Made in the earliest times of drinking tea. 

Then, Ranger, at the height thy credit stood, 

And, hast thou ta'en her in the yielding mood, 

E'en in despite of Davy's awful frown, 

Thou might'st have raised a tick — of half a crown. 

O matchless Emma! thou whom Ch-nd-s L— gh 160 
Has made his step to immortality, 
Not thou, when robbing Milanie of eyes 
That rest on thee, though all her art she plies, 
When all but brother Tom in rapture gaze, 
And through thy box of sighs a current plays, 
c 2 



28 

Not thou, in all the homage of the crowd 

That scarce refrains from worshipping aloud, 

Hast half the joy, unless thou hidest it well, 

That tickled Buzzard in that cockle-shell. 

She bridled, simper'd, wriggled, broke a glass ; 170 

She did a bashful muse should let it pass. 

Perhaps her tea-things she had lately washed, 

And from her slop-basin some. fluid dash'd : 

Was 't wine that in the broken glass had been ? 

I know not, — on the floor some drops were seen ; 

And true, men, turning a stale proverb, say 

She lost all power to shed a tear that day. 

With more than wonted readiness she led 

The way up stairs, to show the promised bed. 

Sore were the knocks the low-hung roof bcstow'd 180 

On Belcour's pate, although, forewarned, he bow'd, 



m 

When following- that Sibyl, who of gold 
Was fond, as she whom Virgil sung of old, 
Before her key gave entrance to a room 
That well so straight a passage might become. 

No herse more closely girds the coffin' d dead 
Than the four walls hemm'd in the little bed ; 
Still it was clean, and might his own be made ; 
At least so long as in advance he paid ; 
Therefore the bargain Belcour ratified, 190 

And took the signory full eight feet wide. 

Not half so low from old Bellario's cave 
The sons of Cymbeline, their heads to save, 
Stoop, when they bid good morrow to the sun, 
(You've seen the thing at Covent-Garden done) 
As Belcour when returning bent his neck, 
Admonish'd by the ceiling's stubborn check, 



32 



Next morn he promised thro* the place to go, 230 
And what was worthy of remark to show, 
To paint the tricks of some, their shifts to live, 
And passing traits of character to give. 

In converse thus they pass'd the time away, 

Till came the hour when Ranger might not stay. 

Its dingy light an inch of candle shed 

To summon Belcour to his early bed. 

They parted— Ranger full of cheer withdrew, 

Sure of a breakfast for the morrow too. 




Hfaitt manger pour viver.—Mov.u r e. 



SKETCHES 



ST. GEORGES FIELDS. 



PART II. 




LA MATTINA. 




J|)art tj« $«am& 



i WAS morn, and thro' the Bench went forth a cry 
By Colvile (e) sent thro' every gallery high ; 
To number " One" peal'd round the shout from a Ten/' 
Far rolling heard, " Pull up ! now, gentlemen !" 
Whoe'er one night has slept within those walls 
Has heard the din that each new comer calls 



38 

To where the keen-eyed turnkeys wait, to trace 
The lineaments of every novel face. 

O Lawrence ! thou whose skill can fairest paint 
The sage, the brave, the sinner, or the saint, 10 

That givest a Wellington for Serjeant Kite, 
Dealest brains to each ambitious city knight, 
Givest Porteus' traits to each insipid Dean, 
To Waithman Wellesley's, Garrick's to a Kean, 
On Thurlow's face can Byron's genius pour, 
Make Wood an Edgworth, Wishart Hannah More ; 
Thee let thy Sovereign o'er thy fellows choose, 
Let others envy, and let B-ll abuse, 
Let kings in congress round thine easel stand, 
New majesty deriving from thy hand, 20 

Whose powers can humanise a Ferdinand. 
Can thine or Owen's feature-catching eye 
With that of Morris (f } or of File wood vie ? 



39 

All features either in a moment hits, 
As each new comer for his picture sits. 

Again " pull up /" from Colvile's bellowing throat 
On many an ear, dispelling slumber, smote; 
Roused by the force of that Stentorian sound 
Rose Belcour, dress'd, and soon the lobby found. 
About the door a throng of varlets stood, 30 

A grinning and ill-favour'd brotherhood, 
That scoff and gibe at every wight that wears 
Linen less black, or better coat, than theirs. 
For these our Belcour was too fair a mark ; 
" Make way," crys one, " he's going to the Park, 
His horses wait ; he's going for a ride — " 
" Fool ! 'tis his Tilbury," another cried ; 
" D'ye think his lordship rides without his spurs ? — " 
" A curse confound such base unmanner'd curs," 



40 

Between his teeth impatient Belcour mutter'd, 40 

As each his wit so truly attic utter'd; 

Then 'mid the laughter of the brutal throng 

Dark frowning, thro' the door he moved along. 

Within the upper lobby Morris sate, 

And touch'd with easy complaisance his hat ; 

And cried, not deigning from his seat to stir, 

" We hope you're pretty comfortable, sir." 

" Those chaps about the door are rather rum, 

But, love ye ! so they do to all that come." 

Short was the conference ; the Turnkey's look 50 

Quick cognizance of Belcour's features took ; 

And never, from that hour, might he pass by 

Unnoted by that well-observing eye. 

Now down those steps, as easy of descent 
As was the Avernian entrance, Belcour went. 



As easy of descent, as hard to scale 

As was the way from that dark world of bale. 

Those scoffing fiends were still about the door, 

And still their mirth indignantly he bore ; 

But soon advancing, Ranger met his way 60 

His leader and adviser for the day. 

Not with more grateful gladness by his side 

Great Alighieri saw his Mantuan guide, 

When thro' the regions of eternal woe 

His round of terror he prepared to go, 

Than Belcour felt, as eagerly he flew 

To meet his friend, to him and breakfast true, 

So more than true, that, ere the cloth was laid, 

And crockery set, a full half hour they staid. 

Meanwhile the gate let in the rabble rout, 70 

Bed-maker, valet, scavenger, and scout, 



42 

That poured along, and climb'd the wonted stairs 

To seek the scenes of their diurnal cares. 

With these came in an ever-clamorous throng 

That vend their merchandise with uncouth song, 

And equal Babel's clamour in one tongue. 

Dire was the dissonance, and strange the din, 

As rush'd the sound of many voices in ; 

For each, or e'er he pass'd the tardy door, 

Sent a rough herald, in his voice, before, 80 

As tho' each clamorous vender were afraid 

One moment's pause might help a rival's trade. 

Astonish'd, Belcour to the window flew 

To learn the source of sounds to him so new. 

In vain the genial season of the year 

Had warm'd the gallantry of Chanticleer, 

Whose public loves before the state-house steps 

Had made the hens of Bull (g) but demireps ; 



43 

Scamper'd the feather'd sultan far, and left 

Poor Partlet of her morning dues bereft. 90 

And O, what cock, surpris'd by such a noise, 

Is true to love, and constant to his joys ? 

Milk, matches, eggs, and Epping sausages, 
Greens, water-cresses, chips, geranium trees, 
A brush, or broom, deal-wood, cow-heel, and tripe, 
Fresh butter, oranges all round and ripe, 
Rabbits, a kettle, jug, or coffee-pot, 
Eels, poultry, home-baked bread, and rolls all hot, 
Shirt-buttons, nosegays, coals, and God knows what. 
Such are the goods that pass the lobby door, 100 

Cried in all tones that vary squeak and roar. 
But breakfast Belcour from the window call'd, 
And all the noisy throng unheeded bawPd. 
What tea was swallow'd, and what toast devoured, 
How Buzzard's visage o'er their prowess lower'd, 



44 

Or how she frown'd, when, to be fill'd anew, 
The empty sugar-basin met her view, 
I need not tell ; suffice it to declare 
That either did full justice to his fare. 

Now, forth they sallied, — 'twas a brilliant day, 110 
And bask'd each idler in the genial ray. 
Some loiter'd near the Post-Office, to see 
What names upon the letter-list might be ; 
Some looking for themselves, — some for a friend 
Whose letters might afford the power to lend. 
Some, gathering, stood in knots ; some moved in talk ; 
Some, silent, held their solitary walk : 
Some, in the racket-courts, against the wall 
Drove up with vig'rous arm the bounding ball. 
Scarce less the crowd that, in St. James's street, 120 
Or in the Park, of sauntering things you meet. 



4fr 

The motley throng as Beleour wondering eyed, 
Thus Ranger spoke, his hierophant and guide : 

" Lo ! here our fellow-denizens you see, 
In this strange world of mirth and misery. 
Though now but slight the movement of the scene. 
Believe it a precarious serene ; 
These living waves, that, if they do not sleep, 
Move like the rippling surface of the deep, 
At times are toss'd in all the wild commotion 130 

That, when fierce winds are loosed upon the ocean, 
Shakes the foundations of its lowest caves, 
And lifts to Heaven the tumult of its waves. 
Between two disputants an angry word, 
Or cause, if any be, still more absurd, 
A smile, a look at some stale paramour, 
Will raise the storm, and wake the deafening roar. 

D 



46 

Not more fallacious is the calm that sleeps 

About uncertain ^Etna's viny steeps, 

While heaves the lava's molten tide below, 140 

Than this still rest, a breath may overthrow. 

Soon as slight signal for the war is given, 

Loud roars the din, and peaceful ears are riven. 

Madness the tumult swells, and rage, and hate, 

And blows are mingled in the fierce debate, 

The clangor (h) of resounding hands, and cries, 

And words obscene, and frightful blasphemies, 

Threats and revilings, execrations dire, 

And all the coarseness of the lowest ire ; 

In divers tongues the clamorous shouts rebound, 150 

(i) And spacious galleries tremble to the sound, 

Tumultuous as the din of Shinar's plain 

When Babel's daring boast arose in vain ; 



So wild, that passing cits in pale affright 
Inquire if Bedlam have not changed its site. 

Now let us analyse, but not too loud, 
If wise, — the composition of this crowd, 
Made up from native soil and foreign clime, 
Of waste, of folly, accident, and crime. 
Here join the speculator and the fool, 160 

Grey-beards, and youngsters rather fit for school, 
(At least for any school but this alone, 
Where college vices in the shade are thrown,) 
Of pugilists, of haberdashers, jugglers, 
Horse-jockies, swindlers, Bond-street beaux, and 

smugglers ; 
By hollow friendship some in prison thrown, 
By other's follies some, more by their own. 

d 2 



48 

There stalks a quondam senator in state, 
And still looks wise, and full of the debate, 
A lexicographer, whose worth once known, 170 

Down tumbles Johnson from his ill-earn'd throne ; 
Here struts another, who his tradesmen's dues 
Disburses to the inmates of the stews, 
That lavishes a decent household's cost 
In wassail 'mid his low retainers lost, 
'Mid slaves, whose fawning pays him for his meat, 
Who mock the vanity that lets them eat ; 
That stubborn casemate guards him from advice, 
'Till all be lost to some cheap Borough's price ; 
Some twelve-months hence, with cash and honour 
spent, 180 

Lo, a new candidate for Parliament ! 



49 

Unless some strumpet, in his tawdry room, 

Anticipate in time a juster doom. 

Here ruin'd lawyers ruin d clients meet ; 

Here doctors their consumptive patients greet, 

Sick of one malady that mocks all skill, 

Without the true specific golden pill. 

Here finish'd tailors, never to be paid, 

Turn eyes on many a coat themselves have made ; 

And bailiffs, caught by their own arts at last* 190 

Meet those their capias yesterday made fast. 

There walks a youth whose father, for reform, 

Has shut him up where countless vices swarm. 

But little is that parent skuTd to trace 

The springs of action, — little knows the place, 

Who sends an ailing mind to where disease 

Its inmost citadel of health may seize. 



50 

Faint are the calls of Decency, when broad 

And naked, Vice can show her front unawed ; 

Where thrives whate'er the vilest of our kind 200 

Can teach to brutify and sink the mind ; 

Where weary Reason fails her watch to keep, 

And the tired conscience finds a troubled sleep ; 

Where every check and barrier is removed, 

Of countenances fear'd, and bosoms loved ; 

Where bold and bad examples lead the way, 

And, every hour, facilities betray ; 

Where feverish impatience fires the blood 

Distemper'd by the madding neighbourhood ; 

Where hope of some short joy the sanguine draws, 210 

And vanity is fed by bad applause, 

The brute his wonted offal seeks, the fool 

Falls, with his weight, or, push'd by ridicule. 



51 

O, never yet was youth's unstrengthen'd mind 

Made pure by herding with the baser kind. 

Here shifts are necessary soon, to live ; 

These to the mind a lasting colour give : 

Such hold some vices in their practice take, 

No force avails, their influence to shake. 

Some taints there are that in the frame defy 220 

The keenest knife and fiercest cautery. 

See yon pale wretch, — observe his vacant stare, 
His lustre-lacking eye, and matted hair ; 
His squalid hands, his soil'd and tatter'd dress — 
Symbols, at once, of want and low excess ; 
Two months ago he was an airy thing, 
Light, crisp, and elegant, and free of wing, 
Graceful in manners, stylish in attire, 
In converse full of wit, of. zest, and fire. 



52 

Soon sank his spirits, faded ev'ry grace, 230 

Before the withering influence of the place : 

Not of that order of high minds was he 

Whose efforts rise with growing misery : 

From wine he sought false courage, and the glow 

That gave a hollow respite to his woe ; 

Soon larger draughts were needful, in the sleep 

That kills all memory each sense to steep, 

Then vile potations of pernicious trash 

Were swallowed, Reason from his brain to wash. 

Behold him, now, confirmed the perfect sot, 240 

That knows no heaven beyond a porter-pot." 

u Not all," cried Belcour, " thus the place affects ; 
Yon wretch becomes a sot, my friend reflects : 
Some more, some less, to circumstance give way, 
Perhaps that youth but gives old follies playi 
And what he is was long before to-day." 



53 

" I know not that," said Ranger, in reply ; 
w That truth escapes my philosophic eye : 
But this I truly think, that little here 
Helps on the mind upon its right career. 250 

Here many fall ; some few, at best, stand still, 
And struggle, like myself, begirt with ill. 

But think not that the action of the place 
Is all reveaPd upon this open space ; 
The darkest portion of the pictures lies 
Obscured and cover'd up from public eyes ; 
Here much you see that bids you all mistrust, 
Much that provokes aversion and disgust, 
New friends, that coolly ask a one-pound note, 
Or borrow for an hour, then pawn your coat* 260 

Such stuff as this upon the surface swims ; 
He little sees, who but the surface skims. 



54 

How much of fraud and finish'd wickedness, 
How much of deep despair, and keen distress, 
Thought of by few, and seen by none, the while, 
Is chamber'd in the niches of that pile ! 
But, lo the papers ! let me introduce 
To your especial eye the man of news. 
This sapient personage, here known to all, 
Mackshee, the Gods — the vulgar Sancho, call. 270 
Each morn the Times and Chronicle he brings," 
And gives his oracles on men and things, 
Cobbett his statesman, and his saviour Paine, 
He speaks of kings and bishops with disdain; 
Cheap trash he circulates to kill the many, 
And damns the Bible weekly for a penny ; 
With just the sense to see twice two in four, 
He swears religion is a cheat, a bore ; 



55 

That all the world must be informed anew, 
Except the infidel or atheist crew; 280 

A clause saves those (altho' no priest they hate) 
Who think that Hunt is born to save the state." 

" Knock me," cried Belcour, " such a fellow down, 
He 11 poison a whole mob for half a crown. 
Doubtless the trash he vends has proselytes, 
Taking the bridle from their appetites. 
These tear the judgments of the Book of God, 
And burn it, just as children burn the rod, 
And think, poor fools, the while its blaze they see, 
Their backs for ever from all smart are free. 290 

Why don't the Marshal lock the blockhead out ?" 
(i O yes — and make a martyr, past all doubt, — 
A Wooler, a Carlile, at least a Hone ; 
Such court the lash, and perish if unknown. 



56 

As for poor Sancho — knew he what we've said, 
'Twould raise an inch the carriage of his head. 
We *11 read the papers if you please, — that done 
We '11 prosecute the studies now begun/' 




SKETCHES 



FROM 



ST. GEORGE'S FIELDS. 



PART III. 




LA SCALTRA. 




13art t*e ^J)irtr* 



HE whom just laws imprison, still is free 
Beyond the proudest slaves of tyranny. 
This Belcour felt, e'en then, when (smarting sore 
From fresh restraint, which heavily he bore) 
He threw his eye o'er that diurnal page 
Whose columns war with Tory dogmas wage ; 



62 

Then, as he mark'd the freedom of debate, 
Where talent and where truth alone are great, 
And read how Right Divine and Priestcraft reign, 
And grind the face and eat the heart of Spain, 1 

He scarce refrain'd, though moving in a crowd, 
From uttering these ardent thoughts aloud : — 

" Hail to the Press ! wide reaching ; whose control 
Awes the mad wishes of the tyrant's soul ; 
Vast artery of life, through which the stores 
That feed the growth of Truth, Opinion pours ; 
The mighty lens through which she points the rays 
That kindle Error's records into blaze ; 
When Superstition in his blood-stain'd den 
Claims his dire sacrifice — the souls of men, 20 

Scare the foul vampyre from his spell-bound prey, 
And plague him with intolerable day. 



63 

Gigantic engine ! power that supersedes 
The long prescriptive Use that Folly pleads, 
Shakes her authorities derived from night, 
And tries her occupancy by its Right. 

O happy England ! though some spots obscure 
Thy brightness, (not the sun from spots is pure,) 
Let him who ne'er to brightness turns his eye 
Dwell on thy faults, — thy foibles magnify ; 30 

Proud of the title of thy son, I see 
In thee the cradle of the bold and free. 
Land of my fathers ! may thy children keep, 
E'en as they guard the empire of the deep, 
The free, unshackled press, that best secures 
Their rights, and liberty to truth assures, 
Even so and more — That shields from foreign sway, 
This fills all home-born tyrants with dismay.— 



64 

Exult, ye dwellers of the sea-girt isle ! 
Tho' the earth's mighty rulers round you smile 4$ 

O'er broken promises, and souls transferr'd 
All unconsenting, like the grazing herd, 
They turn an anxious eye toward your shores, 
Whence your free Press the voice of reason pours, 
And bar their subjects from the dangerous page 
That shows the baseness of their vassalage. 
O Spain ! thou noble and romantic soil ! 
Of bigots and of Ferdinand the spoil ! 
O might but for a year, a month, a week, 
The press unmuffled to thy children speak, 50 

Soon would the springing dawn of a new light 
Dispel thy darker than Egyptian night, 
Beneath whose thickness on thy vitals prey 
The fiends that dare not face the beams of day. 



65 

The time must come, — speed, ye benignant powers, 

Friendly to man, the tardy-gaited hours — 

When not from British senators alone 

The voice of truth may mount up to a throne. 

Truth will have way, whene'er, or late or soon, 

A nation can receive Heavens highest boon : 60 

And, late or soon, the Press o'er all the earth 

Will give to purer institutions birth, 

And show, while error back to night i$ hurPd, 

In stereotype, the freedom of the world. 

So much was Belcour on such thoughts intent, 
He reck'd not on his march what eyes were bent. 
Meanwhile Timandra from her altitude 
The well-drest interesting stranger view'd; 
And straight her scheming brain, as wont, began 
To calculate some vantage from the man. 70 

B 



66 

Her movement 'scaped not Ranger, who divined 
Full well the purpose working in her mind, 
When he beheld her at her window strain 
Her neck, full sight of Belcour to obtain. 

" Look up," he cried, and gently touch'd his arm, 
" Look up ; but first prepare a counter-charm, 
Some talisman of proof, that may repel 
Or disappoint the meditated spell. 
Cast up, as if by accident, your eyes, 
And let them show no movement of surprise. 80 

There stands Timandra ; and since while you stay 
Chance or her will may lead you in her way, 
Believe a friend — your knowledge of the dame 
Aforehand should extend beyond her name. 
She sees you, marks you, and will never rest 
Until of Belcour's history possest, 



67 

At least, while one of all her notions tends 
To prove you may be useful to her ends. 
I'll hold a wager, ere the morn is o'er 
Her well-taught Abigail is at my door ; 90 

Then comes a note, or verbal invitation, 
Requesting half a minute's conversation ; 
With studied carelessness she'll lead the way 
Among the thousand topics of the day, 
Ask many questions, many tales invent, 
To hide the point on which her soul is bent; 
A thousand stratagems and feints she tries, 
A little pleasantry, and many lies ; 
Thoughtful at once, with seeming earnestness 
She asks and notes some man of law's address, 100 
Some business of the last importance frames, 
For which his presence and his aid she claims ; 
e2 



68 

Asks pardon for the trouble that she gives, 

Then comes a string of interrogatives. 

Among the rest, with easy tone and air, 

She slips the real object of her care, 

As knavish shopkeepers that change provide 

'■Mid nineteen good, a worthless shilling slide, 

And, while her subtle web of art she weaves, 

Exults, and vainly thinks that she deceives. 110 

This o'er, she recollects — if but the name — 

To one that can invent 'tis all the same, 

Of some dear friend you know, or may have known ; 

It matters not, if from your memory flown, 

She recollects at least, and here's a clue 

At least conducting to one interview : 

That gain'd, she leaves the rest to chance, to wit, 

The hope you'll show abundant lack of it, 



69 

Politeness, vanity, her skill to find 

Some avenue unguarded to your mind. 120 

And tho' not long your blindness might endure, 

'Tis late to ope your eyes when in the lure 

Your name indorsed on some protested bill, 

Yourself the dupe of her capricious will. 

Nor think my caution needless, tho* you find 
A hint sufficient to prepare your mind, 
Till you have weigh' d how very little grace 
May make a goddess in this wretched place. 
? Tis true such goddesses no worship meet 
In parks, at plays, in parties, or the street; 130 

But here our very virtues aid the cheat ; 
And yield us up the victims of deceit, 
First pity softens us, when o'er the fate 
We muse of woman, friendless, desolate ; 



70 

Far more she seems, and is, than man forlorn, 

More rudely from her proper station torn. 

Whate'er remains of manners that delight, 

More pleasure here from contrast will excite ; 

And faults that unabated and the same 

Remain in nature, change at least their name. 140 

Pertness is wit, a want of feeling, ease, 

And forwardness, a sweet desire to please. 

No matter that Timandra is not young, 

Such qualities to any age belong ; 

France had her Ninon ; why then in the Bench 

May not Timandra supersede some wench ? 

He whose example should inform the age 

So loves, that grandmothers are all the rage. 

And women now their triumphs seem to owe 

To what they were some thirty years ago. 150 



71 

" Some first impressions sink, tho' made in haste, 
So deep, they ne'er are perfectly effaced ; 
And some, tho' swiftly cancell'd, leave behind 
A blot, the shame and torment of the mind. 
Some characters when known such hate have moved, 
We almost weep to think we e'er approved. 
Such is Timandra, when, the flimsy veil 
Removed, we see her truly in detail. 
If for romantic flights you have a taste, 
Hear by herself Timandra's story traced; 160 

Not e'en Arabian fictions are more wild, 
To probabilities less reconciled. 
I know not what in youth she may have been, 
How fitted for an idol, or a queen ; 
But now, whene'er the heroine she plays, 
I wish she'd clean her teeth, or lace her stays ; 



72 

And if she thinks her hand may yet be kiss'd, 
Those ebony-tipped nails were not ill miss'd. 

Ere now a face, like that, all clad in smiles, 
Has been the index to a heart of wiles ; 170 

But never, like Timandra's, yet did eye 
And smile the feelings of the heart belie. 
Thoughtless and giddy she appears at first, 
Till better known, or flippant at the worst ; 
And when she talks like some raw girl that dotes, 
Or signs with fond romantic names her notes, 
The very foolishness at which you start 
Forbids you to suspect how bad her heart; 
Yet here is hid, behind that simple skreen, 
The selfish, vengeful, treacherous, and mean : 1 80 

On scandal doting, — if all other news 
Run short, she '11 hear the gossip of the stews ; 



73 

Herself, unhesitating, will repeat 

Some amorous anecdote from Crawford-street. 

Sometimes the splendours of her youthful days 
Are blazon'd forth to fill you with amaze, 
The lovers that have hung upon her looks, 
Peers, Premiers, Generals, and Royal Dukes ; 
There 's not a Marshal but in her fair hand 
Has sigh'd to place his baton of command ; 190 

Nay, e'en the sceptre, graceful in descent, 
Timandra tells you, to her charms has bent. 
1 Fat, fair, and forty, 9 bears some latitude, 
Nor must too rigidly be understood ; 
A year or two, on this side or on that, 
Is balanced by the article of fat : 
Sometimes, when palFd by blondes and chalky charms, 
To brisk brunettes the princely lover warms,. 



74 

Terms are proposed ; — let but Timandra say 
' I yield/ — what hearts are quailing in dismay ! 200 
Wealth, power, and patronage before her lie- 
But, no ! 'tis greater glory to deny ; 
Therefore, for once she deviates from the rule 
That makes each human creature but her fool, 
That finds in high, in low, in rich, or poor, 
But prey to seize, or vantage to secure. 
Sometimes I almost think that she deceives 
Herself, and falsehoods tells till she believes, 
Or conscience might at times a check supply- 
To stay that volubility of lie, 210 
The stream that branches through as many rills 
As bear the winter s torrent from the hills ; 
So plenteous is the flow, so free its course, 
So inexhaustible appears its source, 



75 

That we are lost in wonder ; and surprise 
Almost exceeds our loathing at the vice. 

'Mid all the changes Sulmo's poet tells, 
None match the workings of Timandra's spells. 
Each visitor that mounts those wondrous stairs 
At once another name and nature bears. 220 

For each mean correspondent, wealth and state 
Her plotting brain delights to fabricate : 
A go-between, a faded milliner, 
Is made a peeress by one word from her ; 
Advice arrives of a protested bill — 
Presto ! — 'tis power some place at court to fill. 

Observe yon fellow issuing from her stairs ; 
Say if nobility's true stamp he wears : 
Conclusions from his mien and dress you draw, 
And think 'tis some low follower of the law, 230 



76 

Some speculator hard and desperate, 

Or gambler, ruin'd past the frowns of fate. 

Misjudging mortal ! whose imperfect sight 

The surface skims, and nothing sees aright, 

Touch with Timandra's euphrasy thine eyes, 

Then blush for that so insolent surmise, 

And own at least a Peer of Parliament, 

Perhaps a herald from the Palace sent. 

Or, if the lady cast some state away, 

And meekness be the order of the day, 240 

'Tis but some candidate for courtly grace, 

That asks Timandra's interest for a place ; 

For she, kind creature, deals them out by dozens 

To all her friends, or to their country cousins. 

What else I know, should I communicate, 
You 'd think 'twere but inventions to relate : 



77 

But, since enough to guard you is possess'd, 
We '11 throw a veil upon the frightful rest." 

Thus Ranger said and ended, — as was need ; 
For uproar now forbade him to proceed. 250 

As gather'd round the door a sudden crowd 
With gestures vehement and clamour loud, 
The vocal lobby, answering from within, 
Rebellow'd to the wild discordant din ; 
Soon as, obedient to the hand of Gore, 
Turn'd on its slow revolving hinge the door, 
Fresh from the court of Runnington, a crew, 
That morn entitled to be free, rush'd through ; 
And as they madly enter'd, up they sent 
A shout that tore the vaulted firmament. 260 



78 

Then folio w'd questions, and strange salutations, 

Mingled with antics, and gesticulations, 

And native sounds, and sounds of foreign nations. 

When like a frantic Bacchanalian crew 

Together bounded, whirled, or rush'd, or flew, 

Exulting Christian, Infidel, and Jew. 

Then, Runnington ! what full and loud acclaim 

Sent up thy blest and oft-repeated name, 

As many a wight that day thy sanction found 

To clear him — with a farthing in the pound. 270 

" Long life to Runnington !" the general cry 

Went up like shouts of armies to the sky ; 

u Long life to Runnington !" the walls around 

Diverging spread, and Bedlam hears the sound. 

With more than French vivacity endow'd, 

One little Frenchman dancing in the crowd 



79 

His fingers snaps ; and in a nasal tone 

Exclaims, " Mais oh que oui ; vive Ronnington !" 




1 > 



SKETCHES 



ST. GEORGES FIELDS. 



PART IV. 




LA HEGOLA DT GIORNO. 




$art fa Courts* 



GOOD Reader, give me leave to ask a question; 

Pray, in the King's Bench have you ever been ? 
"TheBench! Good Heaven! how shocking a suggestion! 

Was e'er so saucy a companion seen V 

F 



86 

My gentle sir, pray mitigate this spleen ; 
I sadly swear I meditate no crime 

Against your dignity : I only mean 
To save, if possible, to both some time ; 
To you in reading — me in making — rhynu . 

Well ! you ne'er saw the place ; or, if you did, 

'Twere better not too closely to surmise ; 
Enough for me, those frowns the thought forbid ; 

Who sees too much is rarely counted wise ; 

I rather boast that mine are prudent eyes ; 
Persons and things so quietly they read, 

Nor by a glance confess they scrutinize, 
That thoughtless lookers think me blind indeed, 
When of themselves I take the strictest heed. 



87 

But, since you wish me to believe that college 
Ne'er gave its finish to your education, 

I, of its laws and customs having knowledge, 
Ere I take up the thread of my narration, 
Must say a little for your information : 

Unless the virtues of DAY-RULES you know, 

Their use from Term's commencement to Vacation, 

I should but vainly ask you to bestow 

The slightest notice on the tale below. 

Says common law " In Jictione juris 

Consistit cequitas ;" as you may see 
In Jacob's Grammar set ; which to be sure is 

But just to say, that law and equity, 



f 2 



88 

Unless a lie unite them, don't agree. 
Let Scarlet, or let Abbot's self defend 

The practice founded thus ; enough for me, 
This sapient maxim is the prisoner's friend, 
And necessary to my story's end. 

Well — then— this fiction of the law supposes 
That every prisoner with means to pay 

(For he that has not, this advantage loses) 
Either has business in the courts, or may 
Bond, fee, and sureties first prepare the way ; 

And Mister Brooshooft's manual sign declares 
That Mister Such-an-one, on such a day, 

Hath got a Rule of Court, and so repairs 

To town, or elsewhere, call'd by his affairs. 



89 

This little talisman of strange effect 

(Four shillings just, and sixpence, is the price) 
From balifFs power the wearer will protect, 

And nullify a capias in a trice : 

It bears a royal head in quaint device, 
At least as true as that which Wellesley Pole 

With taste for English artists much too nice 
Stamped by Pistrucci's aid ; Heaven rest his soul ! 
And shield henceforth the Mint from his controul. 

In various ways the various purchasers 
That sally forth with this protecting spell, 

Employ the privilege this grant confers ; 
Some, like myself, their lawyer's citadel 



90 

Besiege, his speed long striving to impel ; 
To take a dinner with a friend some go ; 

In fashion's haunts some for an hour to swell ; 
Some strive, what creditors intend, to know ; 
And some the moments on their love bestow. 

The custody of William Jones esquire, 

That doughty marshal of terrific fame, 
'Mid many prisoners held a youth of fire, 

Whom scarce imprisonment itself could tame ; 

We'll call him Lawless, if you like the name ; 
'Twill answer just as well as if you knew 

His own, his family, and whence he came — 
Last Easter term, the usual forms, passed thro', 
Procured a Day-rule, and away he flew. 



91 

In coat of Western, pantaloons of Stultz, 
He pass'd ; no butterfly, in early spring 

Burst from the husk of chrysalis, exults 
More gladly in the beatings of his wing, 
When, as the flowers their mingled odours fling 

Upon the heaving bosom of the air, 
In fresh delights he flutters revelling, 

Than Lawless joy'd, as blithe and debonair 

He sallied forth from the dark den of care. 

On all the public haunts he rang the changes, 
Down Piccadilly negligently stray'd, 

Look'd at the Albany, took ice at Grange's, 
A tooth-brush bought in Burlington-arcade 2 



92 

His shilling at the Pall-Mail gallery paid, 
Not to see pictures, but himself to show ; 

For Bond-street and the Park then way he made, 
(And both that day were full to overflow,) 
And laugh'd and talk'd with all he chanced to know. 

Young, handsome, witty, and of gentle blood, 
The pink and mirror of the fashion too, 

None higher in the ladies' graces stood ; 
No son of ton went forth to public view 
That more the eyes of belles admiring drew. 

Of those that Lawless in his progress saw 
Blithe as he was, and degage, how few 

From look or carriage could conclusion draw 

That Lawless was a victim of the law ! 



93 

By dozens invitations he declined ; 

For to a little dinner tete d, tete 
He had decidedly made up his mind, 

And so had promised ; but imperious Fate, 

That on the thoughts of mortals will not wait, 
Had destined him that day an exercise 

Of patience ; and a strange associate 
For dinner brought at once before his eyes, 
That sought to seize— but proved himself — a prize. 

The hour when Lawless' mistress wont to dine 
Approach'd ; so briskly up to Leicester Square 

He moved to take some bottles of French wine 
From Jaunay's cellars, to improve their fare ; 



94 

To get prime Chambertin was was all his care. 
Brunet's hotel already was in view ; 

When Fang the bailiff, and his follower Snare, 
Who well from past events his person knew, 
To seize their fancied prey exulting flew. 

Time was, perchance, when Lawless had turn'd pale if 

A pair so horrible had met his sight ; 
Now, with his Day-Rule arnTd, he fear'd no bailiff, 

Yet chose to counterfeit a little fright, 

As this approach' d him with his satellite ; 
And form'd a plan that might beguile an hour, 

And many an evil turn of Fang requite, 
Who, when the law had plac'd him in his power, 
Had shown himself morose, and curst, and sour. 



95 

" Captain, a pleasant day," the catch-pole cried, 

" And I am fortunate to meet you here. 
Perhaps you'd better step with me aside, 

The passers by our business need not hear. 

I'll do the thing genteelly, do not fear ; 
I've got a writ against you here ; that's all ; 

Tis lucky that the coach-stand is so near. 
Snare, run across the way, a chariot call ; 
Or — stay — a coach will better hold us all." 

Said Lawless, ".My good fellow, why such haste! 

Brunet's is near : before we go I'd fain 
Show what French cooking is, and let you taste 

The Burgundy and excellent Champagne. 



96 

If you 11 but dine with me I'll not complain ; 
I know your business for the day is ended, 

So here you may an hour with me remain. 
Come, we'll enjoy ourselves as never men did ; 
If you deny me, I shall be offended. 

My little Snare here seems a pleasant fellow : 
I like his countenance : if you permit, 
For once the man may with the master sit : 
He'll furnish us with matter for our wit ; 

I know how proper due subordination ; 
Yet see no reason why a merry fit 

May not, without disgrace to your vocation, 

Friend Snare with you and me at table station. 



97 

As Lawless parley'd thus, his pocket-book, 
As if without a purpose, he display'd, 

From which what seem'd a roll of notes he took, 
And to his pocket carelessly convey'd : 
The sight on Fang a quick impression made, 

Already yielding to the promised wine ; 
Nor of escape or trick was he afraid, 

Since Snare, at table if allowed to dine, 

Would make less practicable all design. 

" Captain," he cried, " I'm sure I always try 
Business to do in the genteelest way ; 

If dining at Brunet's will gratify 

A wish of your's, I'll e'en consent to stay ; 



98 

Yet 'tis not regular, I needs must say. 
But let me ask one question ere we in go ; 

What must I do ? my meaning how convey ? 
They nothing speak but French here ; and by Jingo 
I do not know a word of foreign lingo." 

" A very proper question/' Lawless cried, 

" And one that shows you are a man of sense ; 
Faith, you must do as others, who can hide 

Their want of learning with their impudence — 

Affect an easy careless negligence ; 
If aught should puzzle you, pray look at me, 

And when, surprised by any exigence, 
A nod or movement of my eye you see, 
('Tis all the French you need) exclaim, Qui, Qui" 



99 

The bailiff having briefly thus instructed, 

Who promised to observe his orders well, 
His new companions Lawless now conducted 

Up the three steps that front Brunet's hotel. 

Fang, arm in arm with Lawless, with a swell 
Moved boldly forward ; Snare brought up the rear ; 

And, tho' from Jaunay's kitchen the rich smell 
Regaled him with the promise of good cheer, 
Felt his new situation somewhat queer. 

Lawless was known ; so when the coffee-room 
He enter'd, all the waiters stared to see 

Him so attended ; yet did none presume 

To laugh, or shrug ; and stared the company 



100 

There dining, as the oddly-sorted three 
One of the largest tables occupied ; 

And some suspected how the case might be ; 
This Lawless saw ; and willing to decide 
All doubts at once, he to the waiter cried, 

" Eh Gar c on ! vite ! la carte d Monsieur Snare ; 

Etfaites venir ici Monsieur Jaunay. 
(Fang, choose our dinner — here's the bill of fare) 

Ecoutez, Jaunay, vous me connoissez, 

Ce sont des set gents, qui rriont arrete, 
Mais sans aucun droit de me detenir ; 

Faites les payer — -je serai done, venge. 
A leur depens je veux me diver tir. 
N'est ce pas juste, eh Fang?" — " Oui 7 oui, MounseerT 



101 

A bow, a smile, from Jaunay, and a look 
Most knowing, answer gave, and testified 

That well the spirit of the plot he took ; 

The parties dining smoked the jest, and eyed 
The awkward Fang, who turn'd on ev*ry side 

The unintelligible bill of fare, 

And, loth to own his ignorance, still pryed 

On every column with a studied stare, 

As if he knew one item printed there. 

Yes, one — mock-turtle — 'mid the soups he knew, 
But o'er its unknown neighbour, printaniere, 

His eye, as o'er a Greek inscription, flew : 
Among the fish he flounder'd in despair ; 



102 

Truite, cabillaud, and anguille, made him stare ; 
Nor beef nor veal he found in bceuf or veau : 

He groan'd o'er voles ct vent with financier e, 
Or Bechamette, and all the pastry row, 
Pdtees aux huitres, ou Rognons de veau. 

At length the jest a little tedious grew ; 

And Lawless from his much-bewilder'd eyes 
The puzzling columns of the carte withdrew, 

And search'd them o'er, a dinner to devise, 

That well the bailiffs' throats might cauterize : 
Of each high-season'd dish he made selection ; 

And oft he nodded to his new allies, 
Who cried, f* oui, oui? aloud, while each direction 
In French, to add cayenne, escaped detection. 



103 

And since high-season'd dishes thirst create, 
He order'd larger glasses for their wine, 

And calFd for those that most exhilarate, 

Champagne, and Hermitage, and Chambertin, 
And this he called superb, and that divine ; 

And, as each bottle was demanded, made 
To Fang and Snare the stipulated sign ; 

These manfully the part of Frenchmen play'd, 

And roar'd " oui, oui" with laughable parade. 

Dinner was served. It would have made you smile, 

To see the uninitiated pair 
Sit looking at each other for a while, 

As doubting what to think of their new fare, 



o 2 



104 

Then turn to Lawless, with inquiring stare, 
To learn from him the true style of proceeding ; 

Then clumsily attempt, with awkward care, 
To catch the right Parisian mode of feeding, 
So indispensible to men of breeding. 

They sipped the soup, and found it wondrous hot ; 

The fish came next, and that was hotter still ; 
And fire, as each of the fricandeau got 

A taste, their mouths and throats appeared to fill. 

Large draughts of wine might mitigate the ill ; 
And Lawless, as he pledged them, gaily cried, 

" Come, pass the bright Champagne ; who heeds 
the-bill? 
I care not, so my friends be satisfied, 
And wine^ so excellent, be still supplied." 



105 

The wine indeed was bright ; and most divinely 

With briskness leaping in the glass it show'd ; 
And o'er their brains the subtile fumes crept finely, 

As down the unwonted throats the nectar flow'd. 

Each glass they took new zest for more bestow'd; 
And now, so fairly were they enter'd in, 

So loudly did their laughter now explode, 
So near to riot was their mirth a-kin, 
That soon 'twas needful to restrain the din. 



Says the old adage, " Veritas in vino, 19 
(Read otherwise, u In vino Veritas, 9 ') 

And, may I ne'er taste claret more, if I know 
A truer test of temper than the glass. 



106 

Before the power of wine disguises pass ; 
The brute assumes divine benevolence ; 

But wine returns him to his proper class, 
Thrown from his guard, and in the negligence 
Of jovial hours unfitted for pretence. 

Such was the case with Fang, whose disposition 

Seem'd borrow'd, half-and-half, from wolf and bear ; 
And soon appear d the perfect exhibition 

Of all its ugliness, exposed and bare; 

And savagely the wretch began to swear : 
And now, when Lawless, as the clamour swell'd 

So highly, urged him firmly to forbear, 
The brute against all discipline rebelled, 
And, more entreated, but the louder yell'd. 



107 

" You take upon you finely to command/' 

He loudly cried, with a malicious sneer, 
" But I '11 contrive to make you understand 

That 1 both am, and will be, master here. 

Come, sir, we '11 march ; with me your course you 
steer." 
" Pooh, pr'ythee," Lawless cried, who saw the crisis 

Was coming on, " now Fang, you only jeer ; 
But, 'faith, a jest like this not very nice is, 
And more of it you give us than suffices." 

u Jest me no jests," the bailiff foaming roar'd, 
" You will not find me much inclined to jest ; 

You are my prisoner, and at a word, 
Will you submit, or not, to my arrest ? 



108 

Come, march at once ; I swear you '11 find it best : 
I do not stand on trifles, if resisted ; 

You *11 feel this if you put me to the test ; 
I scarce should need by Snare to be assisted, 
And he a better man than you has fisted." 

Said Lawless, " In one thought we don't concur ill ; 

Truly the time for jesting is gone by : 
But I forewarn you, touch me at your peril ; 

Yourself, your man, your capias, I defy : 

I Ve that which makes to all your power reply, 
So, fellows, stand aside, and give me way : 

With those I love to laugh at you I fly ; 
Console you with the bottle while you stay ; 
And don't forget the dinner-bill to pay." 



109 

He rose; then Fang roar'd, " Rescue I" and " Escape f 
And caird to Snare to seize, or knock him down ; 

But, for himself, though glowing with the grape, 
He relish'd not the style of Lawless' frown, 
And fear'd indeed his widely-spread renown ; 

When all at once, to terminate the sport, 
And the confusion of the rogues to crown, 

While one stood doubting, t' other all amort, 

Lawless to both spread forth his Rule of Court. 

Not more Morocco's prince in horror stares, 
When, Portia's picture trusting to behold, 

From the Death's head the upbraiding scroll he tears, 
Deluded by the specious glare of gold, 



110 

Than stared both Fang and Snare, when now un- 
roll'd 
The talisman of mighty power they saw : 

That wondrous amulet at once controll'd, 
As with the force of an acknowledged law, 
The disappointed bailiff's outstretch'd paw. 

Fang and his follower both stood astonished, 
With gaping mouths and eyes distended wide : 

Them Lawless thus with gravity admonished, 
While peals of laughter rang on every side 
From guests and waiters, who the scene had eyed : 

" Good evening, friends; enjoy your jubilee; 
And, if you think yourselves well Frenchified, 

Whene'er you pass the Square remember me ; 

And never— above all— forget ' OUI, OUL 9 ■ 



Ill 

He said ; and though like famish'd wolves they raged, 

Or tigers disappointed of their prey, 
His person Lawless quickly disengaged, 

And left them to the mercy of Jaunay, 

Who forced reluctant Fang a bill to pay, 
Whose length and total fill'd him with affright. 

Swearing, he left the house ; and, ripe for fray, 
His spleen soon vented in a drunken fight, 
That lodged him in the watch-house for the night. 




SKETCHES 



ST. GEORGE'S FIELDS. 



PART V, 







---rWES^s^ * : ~ 



ECLOGA. 




Part m tfiftf). 



W^HERE grisly spikes surmount the lofty wall, 

Spotted with chalk from many a whiten d ball, 

And long-drawn lines, traced featly on the ground, 

The racket-master's territories bound ; 

Where stand three pumps, one while, perforce, the 

thrones 
Of B —Ik — y, B— r— y, and of bolter (k) Jones ; 



118 

A faded Dandy, once the prime and pride 

Of Long's, of Bond-street, of the drive and ride, 

Measured with mournful pace the Bench-parade, 

And oft with wistful eye the wall survey'd; 10 

And sigh'd for Cochrane's talent to climb o'er, 

Or Cochrane's purse to pass him through the door. 

His dress, once others' envy and his boast, 

Not all its native stilishness had lost ; 

And still he seem'd, though shorn of many a ray, 

Not less than some Arch-dandy in decay. 

His coat was yet a thing that Stultz might own, 

Though the slit sleeves long time his slrrt had shown, 

And twice two buttons from the front had flown, 

And, most legitimate, his neckcloth's tie 20 

With e'en an Ultra-dandy's still might vie, 

And still the sweep with which his trowsers fell 

Was such as Petersham might envy well ; 



119 

And ill a three-day's beard became that face, 
Which shone through all the grimness of the place. 

Before him, as in melancholy mood 
He paced the ground, a fellow-suff'rer stood, 
Not long ago on town a dashing blade, 
Fearless, or but of bailiff's touch afraid, 
A Flash in Crawford-street, and known full well 3Q 
At Fielder's and at Forty in Pali-Mall ; 
A jolly Caster, skill'd at billiards, too, 
At rouge et noir, picquet, and tous-les-deux. 
His long surtout was button'd close before, 
And hid his shirt — if any shirt he wore, 
His neckcloth, faded black, convenient wear, 
Saved soap, and gave a military air ; 
His hat, though not a new one, cock'd aside, 
Of smartness what was wanted thus supply'd ; 



120 

And still his bursting boots with iron shod 40 

Gave a great sound, as o'er the flags he strode. 
He join'd the Dandy ; and, as they pursued 
Their way together, this discourse ensued : 

" I grieve," he cried, " to see you daily wear 
An aspect that betokens deep'ning care ; 
Bear up with spirit ; let not Fortune's frown 
Avail to cast your noble courage down. 
The jade will change : a brighter card will come ; 
Another throw may bring a brighter doom : 
It can't be always black : I Ve lived to learn 50 

The longest run of evil luck may turn. 
At Rouge, ere now, I Ve oft continued stout, 
Though to a single counter quite cleaned out : 
That single counter has return'd me more 
Than all my losses for a month before. 



121 

Then, think of comfort : when the world goes hard, 
Tis but to change the colour of a card." 

" To cheer my heart with hope, you vainly seek," 
The beau replied ; " Cm) of comfort no man speak. 
Let's talk of duns, attorneys, bailiffs, writs, 60 

And all that scares the luckless debtor's wits, 
Detainers, declarations, Filewood's keys, 
Cognovit, execution, costs, and fees ; 
For paper, take the ground on which we walk, 
And write our list of debts with Baker's chalk. 
Let 's choose trustees, and tie up our estates ; 
Talk of instalments — but at distant dates, 
But yet not so ; for nothing can we pay 
But Nature's debt, and that we surely may. 
For Heaven's sake, on the pump-trough let us sit, 70 
And tell how Dandies are by Bailiffs hit; 

H 



122 

How some are caught in Bond-street, some the play, 

And some from dinner-parties dragged away, 

And some have from the Park, compell'd, retired 

E'en in the Tilburies themselves have hired ; 

Some sold by concubines, and some betray'd 

At Long's or Stevens's, by waiters' aid ; 

But all arrested. — For, within the sphere 

That rounds the pleasures to a Dandy dear, 

John Doe keeps watch ; and there the antic sits 80 

Scoffing his state, and slily issuing writs ; 

Leaving a breath to swell his tradesmen's books, 

To adonise, to smile, and kill with looks ; 

Infusing him with self and vain conceit, 

As if his pleasures never check should meet, 

And, humour'd thus, comes up with Richard Roe, 

His shoulder touches — and so — farewell beau." 



123 

s O quit," the other cried, " this dismal strain ; 
Of what must be 'tis needless to complain. 
Think, think how many wretches here would own 90 
With joy the fate o'er which you idly moan. 
My wisdom serves me just to strive to cure 
What ills I can — all others to endure. 
Thus, when a bailiff stops me with a writ, 
I thrash him, if I can ; if not, submit. 
When lately gathered up, I did not whine, 
Sit idly moping, or forget to dine. 
With Port I put blue-devils to the rout, 
And drank, with Hulland's help, six bottles out. 
When hither brought, I own I growl'd at first, 100 
The turnkey's looks, and Davy's manners, cursed, 
And scarce consented patiently to bear, 
When first turn'd in, the universal stare. 
h 2 



124 

First Port I drank, descended then to Cape ; 

And quitted next, for Stout and Rig, the grape. 

And now I deem him bless'd who Porter swills 

From the bright pot that smiling Rogers fills, 

And envy Brooshooft, when his face he bends 

So near the ear that to his chat she lends. 

Though much in praise of " Sixteen" pump I've heard, 

My taste some other beverage had preferr'd ; 

That crystal stream I gladly would devote 

To drench a plaintiff's or attorney s coat ; 

And yet I quaff that tide without a frown, 

Nor dash Blue-ruin in to get it down. 

If you complain, have I not cause to fume, 
Fix'd in a dog-hole, much miscall'd a room. 
In one dark corner on the dingy floor 
My bed, uncurtain'd, rests behind the door ; 



125 

A crazy pitcher in another stands, 120 

Whose crack demands the lift of cautious hands. 

My table rocks, unless one leg, too short, 

Is steadied by a tatter'd book's support. 

On either side a paralytic chair, 

Rush-bottom' d one — one cover'd— once— with hair, ? 

Bids you manoeuvre, ere you sit, to know 

Which corner is securely propp'd below. 

But little ink is requisite to clear 

The scanty inventory of my gear ; 

A stripe of curtain, — that too in its wane, 1 30 

Fluttering before a broken window pane ; 

A closet holding half a sack of coals ; 

A lidless kettle, furnish'd well — with holes. 

Of tongs just half a pair, constraint to do— > 

When I 've a fire — the work of poker too. 



126 

Two tea-cups, odd, with saucers oddly match'd ; 

Two pewter spoons, one with initials scratched ; 

A scrap of glass, scarce large enough to show 

My chin's dimensions when my beard I mow. 

'Mid things like these a bottle does not stand ill, 140 

The belly water holds, the neck a candle. 

With goods like these my palace well accords, 

Whose ceiling bears the mark of many lords, 

That, resolute to leave behind a name, 

Have traced their letters with the candle's flame. 

The surface, peeling from the scaly wall 

Of many colours, gives a patch of all ; 

Green, salmon-colour, modest grey, and blue, 

With tawdry yellow mottled, start to view, 

And here and there a brick stands peeping through, 



127 

Midst crevices, whence issue forth each night 
The vermin hordes that plague, and make me long 
for light. 

" I bear all this — then be not you cast down; 
But, my dear fellow — lend me half a crown : 
All day old Hoskins with my name has graced 
The list, within his crowded window placed ; 
I ventured in among his curious lumber, 
And found my letters there were two in number. 
Both may bring money, one I 'm certain must ? 
But me for ten pence Hoskins will not trust." 160 

" I do not think," the beau replied, " that face 
Exempts you from the customs of the place ; 
Those features in your favour much may say 
But Hoskins will not trust to them for pay. 



128 

For half a crown — 'tis more than I possess ; 
Take what I have ; 'tis just a sixpence less. 
This morn that goblin Yorkshireman, my chum, 
Ere due in strictness, claimed his weekly sum. 
With pendent inkstand, tapping at my door, 
Durant, for room-rent, took a shilling more. 170 

My laundress growls, and vows I use her ill, 
And keeps my linen 'till I pay her bill. 
The butcher duns me hourly. Mistress Wedd 
Has sent me word she '11 take away my bed. 
And mother Kyffin will not one supply, 
'Till first a fortnight's hire salutes her eye. 
Since now my purse's lowly state you learn, 
This wretched pittance, when you can, return." 
" When I forget," the other cried, " to pay, 
The spikes from yonder wall shall fly away. 180 



129 

In bulk of frill or seals shall Lewis fail, 
Or he, or Serjeant Runnington, look pale, 
Fitzgerald give you credit for a week, 
Or Butt of Ellenborough kindly speak, 
An agent dripping from the pump shall grin, 
Or goody Scot refuse a glass of gin. 

" But, see, the gathering shades of night descend, 
And every object in confusion blend. 
I vow I scarce can see the short-knee'd breeches, 
Brown hat, and powder'd head of stalking P-tch-s. 190 
The birds and butterflies on R-msd-n's gown 
That show so bright by day ; are soften'd down ; 
And less and less, as V-ck-rs shakes his curls, 
Your puzzled sight can know them from a girl's. 
And, see, the spark shines brightly from afar, 
Where the staid Spaniard puffs his last cigar, 



130 

And P-rry, as a willing ear she lends, 

His graceful height to ripen'd beauty bends. 

And now, at length, the chapel windows gleam 

Bright in the rising moon's reflected beam ; 200 

And Sly-boots sidles up to gentle Wh-te, 

And talks of Jessica, and Shakspeare's night. 

Red glares the mighty lamp, as cautious Gore 

Opens to passing belles the guarded door. 

And, see, the watchman striding in ; his shout 

Proclaims, ' Past nine o'clock ! all strangers out f 

Prating I stand, while precious time is lost — 

I fly to get my letters from the post." 




SKETCHES 



ST. GEORGE'S FIELDS. 



PART VI. 




IL MAGNIFICO 




$art 4t £fxt|). 



O THOU ! whatever title is most dear 

Among the many that salute thine ear, 

John with thy brothers, Jack with the dear friends 

Whose fed applause thy wit and wine commends, 

My dearest Jack with that same mawkish wenclu 

Jacko at Long's, and Captain in the Bench, 



136 

And, yet if more be wanting to the store, 

Monkey with B-ng, Baboon with B-rr-m-re ! 

Whether, with trusty vassal by thy side, 

Thou plann'st an inroad on some virgin's pride, 10 

Or, turning to more solid use thy wit, 

Revolvest the means some trusting fool to hit, 

Awhile withhold the blessing of thine arms 

From longing belles, that keep for thee their charms ; 

Awhile delay, concede a little law, 

Ere thy keen hook transfix the gudgeon's jaw ; 

Bend from thy cloud, and let an iron smile 

Twist the materials of thy face the while ; 

Bend from thy cloud, from that broad limbo fed, 

By Milton sung, o'er Earth's bare convex spread, 20 

O bend thee ; and, for want of better praise, 

Let one Sardonic grin adorn my lays : 



137 

Whether thy lips throughout thy gilded room 

In curling clouds diffuse El-Cham's perfume, 

Whether Champagne or humbler gin they quaff, 

Bray me the roughness of a little laugh, 

A little, little laugh ; a Muse like mine 

Is satisfied with little praise of thine. 

What tho' my touch be weak, my colours faint 

Ammonian Jove or Amnion's son to paint, 30 

Shades less transparent, tints less clear and nice 

For Satyrs or Silenus may suffice ; 

The taste demanded for a Gower's face 

May well be spared when maudlin sluts we trace ; 

And e'en a poker-drawing on a board 

Some traits of Bears and Asses may afford. 

Curl not thy lip fastidious, nor upturn 
Thy scoruful nostril ; nor my subject spurn : 



138 

Fraught with the treasures of Athenian lore 

See learned Knight on Elgin's Beetle pore, 40 

The rude effigies of some God of Nile, 

Some mason's work, the vilest of the vile ; 

Behold him hang o'er this with gloting eye, 

And pass the glorious works of Phidias by. 

Some subjects even new force to genius give, 

Others, less high, from graphic talent live. 

Tho' Hogarth fail'd in Sigismunda's fate, 

He touch'd to life the harden'd profligate ; 

Ostade and Teniers give delight in Boors, 

And Morland's Hogs the eye of taste endures ; 50 

Laborious Douw immortaliz'd a Quack, 

Then let Bombastes find a friend in Jack. 

BOMBASTES ! — as my lips pronounce that name 
My ardent fancy kindles into flame, 



139 

Would dare a flight e'en as thy merit high, 

And climb the strangest heaven of poesy. 

Hail, great Bombastes ! Glorioso ! hail ! 

(More perfect had not Heaven withheld a tail !) 

Let trifling coxcombs in some paragraph 

Of four lines long, their glories read, and laugh, 60 

Point a dull epigram, or in the rage 

Of some vile satirist feed half a page ; 

To thee full rights and royalties belong : 

Thou wast not born joint-tenant of a song. 

No, let me claim such quiver as of yore 

Beneath his arm the mighty Theban bore, 

Full of the shafts of song that thro' the sky 

Resound, as to their noble scope they fly ; 

The many think 'tis but an empty wind ; 

They speak a meaning to the conscious mind rm) . 70 



140 

If he be great that with undaunted heart 
Sees Friends, and Fortune, nurse of Friends, depart, 
Sees Scorn's slow finger raised, yet feels no shame, 
Endures the curse of some, of more the blame, 
Yet shrinks no jot, nor wears a bending brow, 
If such be great — Bombastes, great art thou. 
And happy he from whose safe sides, so round 
And solid, Fortune's heaviest strokes rebound, 
Whose mind, when most that others prize is flown, 
Can be thy wealth, and every loss atone. 80 

Right well thy calm philosophy may mock 
The mighty captive of St. Helen's rock ; 
If his a soul of greatness we allow, 
tell, Bombastes! tell us, what art thou? 
He, the great scare-king once, who could not stir 
But Europe's couriers all were on the spur r 



141 

Kings were his lacqueys, emperors his peers, 
And frighted Premiers trembled for their ears ; 
Excluded from the royal game he sees 
Far off the errors of his enemies, 90 

Far off he sees check mate upon the board, 
And pants to touch the pieces with his sword ; 
Then groaning cries, to his ambition true, 
" O for another day, dire Waterloo f 
If on his soul more tender thoughts arise, 
Perchance for his fair Austrian love he sighs, 
Pines to behold the young Napoleon's face, 
And hold him in a Father's fond embrace. 
So tortures he his soul ; but thou, more great, 
More wise, art constant in thy fallen estate : 100 

Whate'er thy secret thoughts, no human eye 
In thee a trace of feeling can descry. 

I 



142 

No quick emotions, light or strong, declare 

The world without has aught that asks thy care : 

Thy laugh is loud as ever, and thy gaze 

As prompt the blush of modesty to raise ; 

Its wonted polish has not left thy brow, 

The wit that once surprised surprises now ; 

The same fixt elevation of the chin 

Precedes thy jest, and follows the same grin ; 110 

The same complacency thy peace defends, 

And compensates the loss of squeamish friends, 

Who think a mind from superstition freed 

Aught of approval, past its own, can need. 

Therefore thy soul rejects the silly rule 

First framed by some poor narrow-minded fool, 

Who laid this maxim down — that ease and mirth 

Born in a prison are of monstrous birth. 



143 

Thou, true to that great instinct of thy mind 

That sees in self the first of human kind, 120 

Hast yet to fullness all thy former joys, 

And feed'st thy wonted taste with wonted toys. 

E'en in that dark opprobrious den of shame 

Thou wilt not turn thee from thy former fame ; 

Thou still art found the same brisk airy thing, 

Tho' circumscribed the circuit of thy wing : 

Still to the sun thy plumes of every dye 

Thou spreadest, astonishing the vulgar !eye. 

So, in the genial season of the year, 
When first the coleopterous tribes appear, 1 30 

Uprising thro' the perforated ground 
Of grassy leas, where cattle graze around, 
And soft deposits from the cows abound, 

i 2 



! 



144 

Upon a fragrant circle have I seen 
A Scarab bright with purple, gold, and green; 
He, tho' the rosy milk-maid — lest her feet 
Should steal some portion of the adhesive sweet, 
And o'er the treacherous grass herself should slide— 
With pail well-balanc'd featly steps aside, 
He, tho' she scorn the platform that displays 140 

His shards all shining to the morning rays, 
The less exults not in his odorous plight, 
And glories in the many coloured light 
Reflected from his wings with balmy pulp bedight. 
So, when the sun seems bright enough to shine 
On form and dress so exquisite as thine, 
Thou, from the toilet's hidden mystery 
Thy well-turn'd key forbids all eyes to see, 



145 

Steppest forth, Bombastes, to the full parade, 

A cynosure by wond'ring eyes survey'd, 150 

Where'er thou movest an atmosphere of sweets 

Wraps thee around, and every nostril greets : 

To form the cloud what various scents combine ! 

Factitious some, more naturally thine : 

Now 'tis thyself, now Reseda prevails, 

And noses puzzle o'er the changing gales ; 

Now o'er the brain Delcroix' rich odours come, 

And now a scent all redolent of Bom — 

— bastes succeeds, the paramount perfume,, 

Like Pastilles after dinner in a room, 160 

Whose potent gas at once the weaker smells 

Of fishy or of gamey taint expels. 

Oft have I smiled to see the broad surprise 
Distending wide the listeners' mouths and eyes, 



146 

When thou hast deign'd, in some astounding tale, 

Some portion of thy greatness to unveil; 

Of noble relatives hast given a list, 

That stupid genealogists have miss'd; 

And every anecdote that stretch'd their ears 

Hast garnish'd with at least a brace of peers. 170 

At times thy horses are the noble theme, 

And gold cups won, or imaged in a dream ; 

Then thy estate, sums spent, and repartees 

Mixt with philippics, for unjust trustees ; 

Next comes thy mistress and her waywardness, 

Her letters too, her jewels and her dress, 

Thy knowledge of the money-lender's trade, 

Attorney's tricks, paid bills, and bills unpaid ; 

Then come the glories of a bright campaign, 

Achievements done, and dangers risk'd in Spain, 180 



147 

Thy wounds unheal'd, unpension'd too, God wot ! 

From that same vile unmanner'd musket-shot. 

But O the gall of envy ! with a sneer 

A saucy rascal whispers in my ear, 

" If powder e'er he smelt, 'twas not in quarrels, 

Or martial strife, but fired from Manton's barrels ; 

No shot e'er touch'd him ; and, to tell you plain, 

I'd hold a bet he never was in Spain." 

A vaunt ! malignant wretch ! — 'tis known full well, 

All those icho saiv it of his prowess tell ; 190 

Thou wast not there ; and Cape is not Madeira 

Unless Bombastes fought at Talavera. 

But see ! thy minister in chief appears, 
And now some mighty scheme demands thine ears ; 
And boldly thou may'st challenge Europe whether 
Four ears were e'er more fit to go together. 



148 

For ne'er did Providence, in all its care, 

Together bring a more congenial pair ; 

Birbante's patron worthy thou to be, 

And fitted only for thy service he. 200 

When great Alraschid ruled o'er Bagdat's pride, 
Two ministers were ever at his side ; 
Whether by Tigris' tide he took his rambles, 
Scared an old fisherman, or scour'd the shambles, 
Mesrour the black and Jaafar the wise 
In masquerade partook the enterprise ; 
Augustus with Maecenas would unbend ; 
And le bon Henri was sage Sully's friend ; 
Poins waits on Hal> and Marrall serves Sir Giles, 
Old Subtle has a face to aid his wites ; 210 

George has his Y-rm-th, and Dick Amlet Brass ; 
So great Bombastes his Birbante has. 



149 

Some ministers have but a single place, 

(Tho' lately this is not a common case) 

If more they have, and those not sinecures, 

The salary's tithe a deputy assures. 

But in thy minister, Bombastes, meet 

Such talents as in one we rarely greet ; 

Tho' various, yet so well the severals tend 

To one just line, to one their proper end, 220 

That he, unless its justice Heaven deny, 

Exalted o'er the heads of men will die. 

See him in theory a Machiavel, 

In practice Davus, Brainworm, Sganarelle, 

Van, fresh from buxom B — te's, is not so clear 

So quick, so practical a financier; 

Not Cressid's gentle uncle had more skill 

To help an amorous couple to their will ; 



150 

Able in embassies, or, at a word, 

Fit for the Colonies or Transport-hoard, 230 

He, as befits a minister of state, 

His chief dispatches makes in duplicate. 

But see ! the appointed sign with meaning fraught 
Shows that some weighty tidings now are brought. 
Now waits Bombastes some finance report, 
Or embassy from Cy there a's court, 
Some note from Dover-street, in style excelling, 
Too elegant to follow forms in spelling, 
In whose short page the form and character 
Of many written languages concur ; 240 

Tis now thin Persian, now Etruscan thick, 
Now arrow-head of Babylonian brick, 
Now curved like Arabic, like Coptic stiff, 
And now your true Egyptian hieroglyph ; 



151 

Sanscritta now it seems, and now Phoenician, 
Now flourished, like disused contracted Grecian, 
Now branching forth like Cambrian pedigrees, 
Now running down the paper like Chinese, 
Now this, now that, now like to none at all, 
Or children's charcoal scratches on a wall, 250 

Zig-zag, elliptic, or diagonal. 

But more than love and love's delicious cares 
Now calls. Bombastes up the wonted stairs ; 
Soon tribute will arrive, and Oxford-street 
Will pour the precious metals at his feet ; 
Bonds in times past, and bills at proper date 
Have been available for Kelty's plate ; 
And times are bad indeed, or even now 
Hudson on trust a snuff-box will allow, 



152 

Or splendid case of pipes, ecume de mer, 260 

Useful at once to make the vulgar stare, 

Or, where three golden balls allure the eye 

Of financiers, to raise a quick supply ; 

And what was bought on credit, in a trice 

Will bring a fifth of its reputed price ; 

If fifteen pounds supply the present state, 

For eighty Hudson can afford to wait. 

But other tributaries to thy skill, 
Expert Bombastes, wait upon thy will ; 
Beneath his precious cargo Soto bends, 270 

And with an ass-load at the door attends ; 
He enters ; soon are spread about the room 
The silks of Spital, or of Indian loom ; 
With Pullicats the gay Bandanas vie, 
And lustrous Satins claim the wandering eye ; 



153 

O'er all thy scrutinizing glances move, 

Some please thyself, and more may please thy love, 

Thine eyes awhile on sweet peach-blossom fall, 

Then primrose, whites, or blues, their gaze recall ; 

So hard it is to choose, thou needs must take them all. 

If Soto cheat his creditors, or swing, 

That's his affair, not worth considering ; 

Enough for thee, thy note or bill he takes, 

And what he can of the transaction makes. 

So he whom Fielding's well-recording page 
Declares the chiefest hero of his age, 
Langfanger's great descendant, to whose arms 
The chaste Letitia gave her heaven of charms, 
Took seldom heed, so his designs were done, 
What danger his low instruments might run, 290 



154 

Or even, when convenient to his state, 
Himself consign d some blockhead to his fate. 

What tho' the Muse might happily repeat 
The motley guests that round thy table meet, 
The flow of wit, o'er which alternate reign 
The enchantments of raw rum and brisk Champagne ; 
All these she passes, and the style that stamps 
Thy room so elegant, thy hangings, lamps, 
Lustres, and all that suits the chaste retreat 
Of some dear nymph of Upper Thornhaugh-street; 300 
For lo ! Genevra comes, the loving fair 
That thinks thy fortunes yet deserve her care ; 
That waits, and still assiduous will wait, 
In its last remnant to participate, 
Fixt ne'er to part while aught she can receive, 
While aught her dear Bombastes has to give. 



15-5 

Woe to the luckless rival that aspires 

To share in aught Genevra's soul desires, 

Whose daring hand the good would intercept 

For which so often she has fought and wept ; 310 

Woe to the luckless wretch that dares to shine 

In satin or in silk, a gift of thine, 

Whose ear a pendant, or whose fingers wear 

A ring, that none but hers may justly bear. 

A kiss is nothing — solid marks of love 

At once the triumph of a rival prove— 

Thine arms may bless another ; yet no trace 

To-morrow finds in " the fore-fended place ;" 

But gifts of thine to all the town proclaim 

Thy infidelities, Genevra's shame. 320 

Some faults she pardons, tho* not justified ; 

These wound at once her interest and pride, 



156 

Justly she rages, losing either due, 
Robb'd of the pleasure — and the profit too. 

Yet casual altercations but improve 
The level dullness of unruffled love : 
Wisely some bitter in our sweets we throw, 
(The flavour of the kernel in Noyau ;) 
A little roughness quickens smooth delight, 
So some enhance their billings with a bite. 330 

What sweet varieties their time employ 
Who thus have skill to change the genial joy ; 
Now in delicious calm their senses steep, 
Now rage like angry winds that chafe the deep; 
Now blend their spirits in a mutual sigh, 
Now change a bleeding nose or a black eye. 
And ne'er did lovers bear in amorous war 
This scientific principle so far 



157 

As thou, Bombastes, and thy charming mate, 
Or nearer push love's bounds to those of hate. 340 
Sometimes the show of rage so far is press'd 
That lookers-on can scarce believe 'tis jest ; 
One swears so admirably, one appears 
So perfect in the masquerade of tears, 
So well are imitated bites and screams, 
Scratches and kicks, that all in earnest seems ; 
And simple Chremes could endure no more, 
So moved the great Bombastes to the door, 
As if a bully had but thrash'd his w — e. 

So have I seen — as once at thy hotel 350 

An instance, Holding, I remember well — 
Two Cats make love. That time the tranquil night 
Was beauteous in the moon's resplendent light ; 

K 



158 

The concert at the neighb'ring rooms was o'er, 

And died away of carriages the roar ; 

Beneath my dressing-room a court there lay, 

Where work'd a pretty milliner by day, 

Though of her beauty conscious, I profess 

More modest milliner ne'er trimm'd a dress. 

Her window now was open, so was mine, 360 

But, O believe me, 'twas not by design. 

As leaned upon her snowy arm her cheek, 

Something below her eyes appear'd to seek ; 

And soon the well-known sounds gave information 

That amorous cats were in a strong flirtation. 

I look'd ; the loving creatures met my eye : 

One, on a decent temple seven feet high 

Demurely sat ; the other, from a wall, 

Amid glass bottles raised his suasive call : 



159 

Undaunted still his perilous way he kept, 370 

And waved his tail, and near and nearer stepp'd ; 
(0 Love ! what nightly perils he must brave, 
Or cat, or man, whom thy delights enslave.) 
From fair Grimalkin broke a plaintive cry 
Of mingled fear, of love, and pudency ; 
But he, the hero of the night, came on, 
And soon the wall's extremest length was won. 
Awhile he pour'd a low caressing sound, 
Then on the temple sprung with sudden bound. 
This bound, beyond all bounds, appear'd to scare 380 
At once, and to enrage, the prudish fair ; 
Long were the notes she raised, and loud and high 
The clamour sounded up the midnight s ? iy ; 
But he too far had ventured to recede ; 
Yet humbly seem'd the hypocrite to plead, 
k 2 



160 

And fawn'd, and crouch'd, and tried all winning 



The hidden wishes of his love to raise : 
But still crept on with an insidious pur, 
And seem'd to sleek the roughness of his fur. 
Louder the din arose ; a threat'ning paw 390 

Was raised at times his bold approach to awe ; 
But still, me thought, the motion of her tail 
Proclaim'd his blandishments might soon prevail ; 
And, 'midst her cries, a murmur of applause 
Soften'd, at times, the terrors of her claws. 
So thought the lover ; and soon, bolder grown, 
He rush'd to make her secret charms his own. 
Then what wild uproar and commotion rose, 
When in fierce grappling he came on to close ; 



161 

Then one tremendous sostenuto squall 400 

Arose, as if throughout Saint George's all 

The cats had join'd to swell the mighty call. 

Then, under sounds, that to the serenade 

Served as long base notes to much treble play'd, 

These able contrapuntists from their throats 

Pour'd a rich deluge of chromatic notes, 

And Beethoven himself, had he been by, 

Had sketch' d the plan of a new symphony. 

Meantime the struggle was maintain'd so well ; 

That rolling o'er the pantiles either fell, 410 

And underneath my window on the ground 

After a summerset their feet they found. 

Not, by his fall diverted from his aim, 

This prince of cats prepared to crown his flame, 



162 

And fiercely rush'd, cocksure, to seize his prey, 
That scarce resisting at his mercy lay. 
I, all indignant at a rape so foul, 
Seized in due time a vast one-handled bowl 
That full of fluid near the window stood, 
And on the ravisher discharged the flood. 420 

By different ways off scamper'd from my sight 
O'er walls and roofs these songsters of the night. 
I heard a titter, or at least supposed 
I heard it, as the neighbouring window closed. 
What dreams employ'd the pretty milliner 
That night I know not — mine were all of her. 
Adieu, Bombastes ! — Thou, Genevra, too, 
Receive a long — I hope a last — adieu ; 
Still blaze, and bless, and curse, and kiss, and bite, 
And prove each other's torment and delight ; 430 



163 

Complete your destiny : and, while you may, 

Through foul and fair pursue your wondrous way: 

Whither it leads I vainly would divine, 

Content to hope it never may be mine. 

But this I know ; that nothing in the range 

Of fortune's power your genuine worth can change. 

Bombastes, whether driving four in hand, 

Or a hack chariot plying in the Strand, 

Whether he boroughs buy, or cat's meat sell, 

Will be the same, and all his peers excel : 440 

So his Genevra, whether thro' the Park 

She move by day, or Fleet-street in the dark, 

Whether in Opera-box, or in a shed, 

Whether to masquerades, or Bridewell, led, 

Whether some ninny with disdain she treat, 

Or ballads sell, or matches, in the street, 



164 

Whate'er her home, her fortune or her fame, 
Is still Genevra, still will be the same. 




NOTES. 



NOTES. 



O great Soubise! and greater Bechamelle ! Page 19. 

See l'Almanach des Gourmands, and the Carte of every 
Restaurateur in Paris. 



Colvile his trunk, himself a cloak-bug bore. p. 22. 
One of the Janitors, and crier of the place. 



Scarce larger than a full-sized Chemow shell, p. 25. 

The shell called by conchologists Chama Gigas. It is 
often of an enormous size. ZofTany, when in India, made 
a drawing of a group of four children, which a specimen of 
this shell held together. 



168 NOTES. 

So Abbot calVdfor wax, yet wish'd the seals, p. 26. 

Soon after the elevation of Judge A to the Chief- 
Justiceship, the Court sitting late, lights were called for: 
tallow-candles were brought; when his Lordship cried out, 
with a voice that would not have disgraced his predecessor, 
" Take that away. If I can't have wax, I '11 have none." 



By Colvile sent thro' evert/ gallery high. p. 37. 
The crier of the place, gifted with prodigious power 



of lungs. 



With that of Morris or of Filewood vie ? p. 38. 

Two turnkeys, very expert in taking the lineaments of all 
new-comers. 



Had made the hens of Bull but demireps, p. 42. 
The proprietor of the tap. 



NOTES. 

TJie clangor of resounding hands, and cries, p. 46. 

Diverse lingue ; horribili favelle ; 

Parole di dolore ; accenti d' ira ; 
Voci alte e floche, e suon di man con elle 

Facevan un turaulto. 

Dante. Inf. c. III. 



163 



And spacious galleries tremble to the sound, p. 46. 

Treman le spaziose atre caverni. 

Tasso. 



Mais sans aucun droit de me detenir. p. 100. 
It is English-French that Lawless speaks here. 



Of B—lk—y, B—r—y, and of Bolter Jones, p 1 17. 

A Bolter is one who, having the privilege of a Day-rule, 
runs off and leaves his bondsmen, or the Marshal, to pay his 
debt ; or who decamps from the rules. Such an one, when 



170 NOTES. 

retaken, usually undergoes some discipline from the inhabi- 
tants of the college. 



The beau replied; " of comfort no man speak, p. 121. 
Parodied from Shakspeare. Rich. II. 



They speak a meaning to the conscious mind, p. 139* 

IloXXtt (xoi lit ctyxoo- 

VQS OOHEA @B\n 

Ev&ov evn <J>apETpct5 
Qcwavrct a-uviroia-iv Eg 

AS TO WAV, SpfJWVSWV 

Xari&i. PlND, Ol. II. 



THE END. 



LONDON: 

Printed by W. Clowes, Northumberland-court. 



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